


Heads or Tails

by Piccoloisgreen89



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piccoloisgreen89/pseuds/Piccoloisgreen89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about culture, home and adaptation. One that teaches you that family is everything when you have nothing. </p>
<p>Set in the dragon ball z world, I'm not really sure about the time line. Somewhere after Buu, though now we have super! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It is of an OC perspective. </p>
<p>This was written around two years ago and I figured I may as well do something with it. </p>
<p>It is a little mean, a bit sweary in places and there's smut dotted here and there. I'm really fascinated with cultures, I'm exploring culture of the races we see in the DBZ world, language and norms. It's most fun! </p>
<p>All original characters are mine, the rest I've borrowed from Akira Toriama. There may be a few TFS dub references too...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The dead must rest

**Author's Note:**

> A little intro to chapter our characters and the start of out journey. 
> 
> If you can, please leave some feedback. I've never shared any of my writing before!
> 
> My chapters tend to be short and sweet. Unlike my characters, I must add...

#1 Heads or tails - the dead must rest 

His dark eyes met her light ones as the crimson wine of her life poured from the bottle neck gash in her throat, and soon, all was dark. 

Brightness. That's what had awoken her, the brightness. Then again, it could have been the heat. Serchien sat herself up and cringed momentarily at the protest of her aching muscles. She took in her surroundings, white walls, rounded and smooth. Circular windows with purple glass, an archway leading to another room. Another room where she could hear voices.

She strained her hearing to assess her situation further. There weren't any guards. She was not on the ship. The voices, two to be exact. Male. A young man and an elder. Gentle. She reached her mind further to pick their power levels apart. Strong yet nothing to boast about and weak. They shouldn't pose a threat, she reflected. But first, to find out where she was and more importantly, where her brother was.

Serchien swung her legs over the side of the bed she was lay upon and stood swiftly. She looked down at her hands, her palms had an iridescent green tinge to them. Unusual. Saiyans do not have green skin. Her hair fell from behind her ear and into view, but not the lilac locks and twirls that she expected, that were hers, but deep green curls. Also unusual. 

Someone was approaching. They took no effort to disguise their arrival. A tall, green man with antennas strode through the door and Serchien rounded on him in a flash. She was small, but she was fierce. 

'Where's my brother?' She snarled at the larger man whom she'd slammed, back first onto the floor in one flowing movement, her hands pinned his arms and her knee was pressing into his temple.

'I don't know,' he chocked out, 'we found you alone. Your ship crashed. Not far from here.' His eyes darted nervously under her gaze. He was afraid. She could smell it. Every heartbeat permeated the air with his fear, it didn't matter what species or race she encountered, fear was a smell she knew and knew well. It was salty and dry, like beach sand on a hot day. 

Serchien relented on her iron hold and let the green man up. 'You're Namekian. Is this Namek?' She asked, tone demanding.

'Yes. I found your ship, you were in a bad way. Your throat was slit, I brought you here myself. Our village elder said there was much to be done with you, we transfused you blood, figured you were as good as dead anyway so mistakes wouldn't matter much.' The green man explained, meeting her eyes.

'It turned your hair green. You slept for 100 days, I didn't think you'd ever wake up. On the 101st day, you vanished.' He continued. 

Flashes and blurs of what appeared to be memories burst into her mind. 

Crimson. Black. Bright. White. She knew. 

'Oblivion.' She stated simply. 

'That, that means you're a siren? This must be what Moray sensed. You should talk with him. Flute, my name is flute. What's your name?' Flute asked, relaxing slightly as the tension in the small woman's body lessened.

'My name is my own. Take me to see this elder. Now. After, you'll take me to the pod I landed in.' She bit out.

'Yeah, about your pod. See, this is new Namek. An overlord came to misuse our dragon balls and...' 

'Frieza! Conniving bastard!' She spat, tensing once again. She eyed Flute again, he cautiously backed away a few paces. He suited her just fine being alive, but what she wouldn't give to hear his bones break right now. Later, perhaps. 'Where is frieza? What happened to your planet?' 

'Frieza was defeated, an earthling defeated him. Frieza destroyed our home world. Your pod as you call it was there.' 

'He tends to do that.' She interrupted. 'An earthling? Can't say I've heard of planet earthling before. It must be in the back waters. Peculiar. So, now you're all here. Where was I when this happened? Where were you?'

'You vanished. Pop. Gone. Not a trace. I was killed, frieza wasn't the only one seeking to use our dragon balls, myself, my family, my whole village was slain by a mean little prick. Vegeta his name was, I think. Killed by frieza I heard.' 

Serchiens heart tightened as though a boa constrictor was crushing the thumping struggle from its very form. Vegeta had been there. Of course, he must have sent her to Namek, assuming her wound was fatal. As a child, Serchien had studied namekian language and culture. It was imperative for the future ruler of the saiyan galactic empire to understand different cultures. She was to learn how to be diplomatic, play other cultures to her advantage, where to strike when she needed to crush lives. Namek was her favourite planet, the language rolled off her tongue as though she was born to speak it. It was melodic and balanced unlike her own native tongue which was harsh and throaty. To speak saiyan correctly, the muscles in the throat needed to be used, muscles only saiyans had. Their lips would seldom move when they spoke. Who was left to speak to her though? Her other half was gone. Dead. She was the last one. 

'Tow dechze min aiyah. That's saiyan. The dead must rest. Lets find this elder.' She said, blandly as she pointed at the archway leading to the next room.


	2. Define Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serchien has to work out her place in a new world and navigate her emotions accordingly. Flute too, has some working out to do.

# 2 Heads or tails - define home 

Flute strode through the archway and turned as though he was needing to prompt Serchien to follow, only to find her standing stock still, arms folded and glowering at him. 'She's a ballsy little thing.' He thought to himself as he turned back and headed into the large open room. There was a small dining table with four chairs around, perched on one of the chairs was an elder namekian. His skin was much darker, mossy almost. 

'My dear! You're awake!' Greeted the old man who Serchien surmised was Moray. 'Flute worried you'd never wake.' He said graciously.

'Why would you worry? How do you know I'm a friend?' She challenged.

'Well, you're awake and you haven't killed us yet, so far so good!' The old man chortled.

'Yet indeed. What do you know of oblivion and sirens? Tell me, everything.' 

Moray sighed, she did indeed have a sour disposition, just as he imagined. He's wisdom told him that she was a prickly character who would not suffer fools gladly, nor would she tolerate pity. Tread carefully, his heart chided, for she is fierce and dangerous, like a wild beast who's been caught in too many hunters snares. Tameable, perhaps. Time will tell.

'A siren is born as one of two halves, twin children who are so alike yet so polar. The galaxy aligns the conditions for a siren so rarely. These children are two sides of the same coin, one is heads, the other tails. They share a bond that no two living mortals can comprehend, a bond tested through suffrage. The vessel, that being the person, destined to become the siren must die a hundred times over to protect their other half. On the 101st day, they go to oblivion where their powers are granted.' Moray explained.

On her home world, she and her twin brother were known as indigo children. It was an old legend but both she and her twin knew they were that fulfilment of legend. Her brother had immense power, their father would measure his power level on the scouter each day before their evening meal. Her own power, whilst present was not detectable. For this very reason, her brother received training and she did not. Not officially, anyway. He taught her all he knew. He sparred with her. One time, when they were six, he kicked her so hard that both her knee caps shattered into spindles and shards under her skin. 

'Warriors don't cry or moan,' he said, biting back his own childish tears which were conjured through a mixture of guilt at her pain and pangs of the dreaded consequences of their father finding out what had happened. 

'You bled to death one hundred times, am I right? Recover, bleed, die, repeat.' Moray asked carefully, in a low drawl, void of sympathy. He did not want to incur the wrath of this mighty little woman. She snapped out of her daydream reluctantly and replied tersely.

'Correct. I know my powers. I know my limits.'

'Very good! Now, what do you intend on doing with your life?' 

That question floored Serchien, it struck her painfully. Her life, with out her brother. With out vegeta. With out a place to go. Home was long gone, Freeza saw to that personally. She knew it was no mere meteor that forced her noble race to its death. But with Freeza gone, what was her purpose? On the ship, Serchien served as a healer, granted her bedside manner was somewhat lacking and she had the patience of a ferret on crack when it came to people howling and mewling in pain, but she was good, bloody good. She enjoyed the pressure of making snap decisions that were life or death, she enjoyed the power she had in being able to cure or kill to end or prolong suffering of hapless idiots. She didn't do it out of sheer caring and nobility, no. If you wanted to survive whatever shit storm you'd been hit by, you looked to her and prayed she liked you, and she thrived on that. 

'I'm a healer, fluent in namekian, both dialects as you can tell. I'll stay here and study namekian anatomy and medicine. Show me the way and I'll get started.' She said, looking towards the exit.

'You wish to help our people?' Flute asked, enthusiasm radiating from his smile.

'No, fool. I wish to study you. Perhaps a little dissection is in order?' She scoffed whilst walking a slow circle around Flute, eyeing him up and down.

A cold buzz shot from his antenna to his toes, freezing his innards. He shook his head and tried to quell the revulsion he felt. How could she be so ungrateful? It was his blood that revived her. His faith in her very soul being a good thing for Namek that encouraged his vigil over her. No, he thought. No one can be this rotten. 

Or can they?


End file.
